


I Have Mapped the Curves of Your Body

by Atilol



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atilol/pseuds/Atilol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk makes Spock lose his logic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have Mapped the Curves of Your Body

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the fantastic song "I Have Mapped the Curves of Your Body," by Places and Numbers. I reccommend you give it a listen before you read this story, but it makes sense without it. This can be read as either Abrams or Original Series Universe. Cross posted on my Livejournal and the K/S archive.

Vulcans are not supposed to have imaginations. They are frivolous, and illogical, as Spock has stated countless times.

Vulcans certainly are not supposed to have fantasies.

Yet, he does. As Spock is sitting at his Science Station, posture impeccable and fingers flying over his keyboard, he dreams. Behind the flurry of equations, calculations, numbers, and theories in his mind, he is bending the Captain over the Navigation consol, licking a thick stripe along his throat.

He imagines, as he sits alone at lunch, what it would feel like to open Kirk up with his tongue and fuck him, and Vulcans certainly never result to profanity, but Jim Kirk could drive a saint to madness.

_I am no saint._

And, suddenly, the golden star he orbits around comes over to him, as he sits over an untouched bowl of Plomeek soup, and asks Spock if he would like to play chess this evening. Spock responds evenly, even coldly, as his erection strains thick and hot behind the zipper of his suddenly tiny regulation trousers. He affirms that he will be there at 1700 hours.

Only when Jim leaves does he realize he has been clutching his spoon so hard he has formed a line of thin, forest green half-moons where his fingernails dug into his palm.

The rest of the day is a blur. If pressed, Spock could recite in detail every moment of the day. His efficiency hasn’t dropped anything more than 0.02%. Despite this, a flurry of bronzed limbs flies behind his eyelids and in his steel-cage mind he has Kirk writhing beneath him, promising untold pleasures if he just touches him already.

When he arrives at Jim’s quarters, his heart is beating at an irregular rate and he feels vaguely nauseous. He notifies the Captain of his presence with a precise push of a button, and the door slides open merely seconds later.

The smile that lights up Jim’s face could illuminate a galaxy.

He invites Spock in, and, as usual, they play a few games of chess. Kirk absolutely slaughters Spock, but he can hardly be blamed. In his mind, he was fucking Jim amid the ravaged and toppled 3D game board over an hour ago.

And then, the miraculous happens – even though Spock does not believe in miracles. His hand brushes over Jim’s for a moment, and in that instant his universe focuses to that miniscule millisecond of contact with Jim, because he can feel his same desire, reciprocated and mirrored in the one he loves.

For a moment, Spock would have sworn time ceased to pass.

Suddenly, they were on each other. Spock slammed Jim against the wall, ripping his golden shirt over his head. Their kiss was parody of intimacy; tongues and teeth clashing in what could only be considered as violent. Kirk’s fingers crept steadily up Spock’s back, divesting him of his shirt in a move that screamed of practice.

Spock was livid.

He turned Jim against the wall and yanked his trousers down, knelt behind him and spread his cheeks roughly. His thumbs kept him spread as his tongue probed hotly at the tight pucker of his entrance, before two of his fingers entered the slick orifice. Spock spat on his hand and rubbed his erection before breaching Jim just past the head.

Jim whined deep in his throat, and begged Spock to move, goddamnit it.

“Mine,” Spock demanded roughly in his ear, “Say it.”

“God, Spock, yours, I’m yours,” he begged, “Just fuck me already.”

Spock was happy to oblige. He slid into Jim in one quick snap of his hips, anchoring Jim with his fingers in what he was sure would leave bruises. He knew he wouldn’t last long, he had been waiting far too long for this. Jim was hot and so fucking tight. With a final, unforgiving thrust, he came deep inside his lover, Jim following not long afterwards.

Spock pulled out gently and tucked them back into their pants before pulling Jim against him, sinking back against the wall.

He pressed a kiss to Jim’s ear.

_Mine._


End file.
